I don't remember how many "Sorry it's taking so long!" emails I sent Emily and it's probably for the best; it was an embarrassing amount. But I'm going to stop apologizing now (just kidding: sorry Emily!) because it's clear to me that the existence of this post proves how significant crop tops are in my life and how potentially significant they can be in yours.

In the past 5 weeks, my life exploded pretty dramatically. I stopped sleeping, killed all my plants, lost my suitcase underneath mountains of laundry, forgot how to cook real food, and made my cats so angry about it all that they took to peeing on my bed... but I'm STILL writing you about crop tops. Important shit guys. This is important shit.

There are three reasons I've been obsessively collecting "belly tops" this summer:

It's a well-known fact I'm fairly fearless... but baring my stomach in public on an regular ol' Wednesday felt, well, almost deviant. The first time I tried a cropped shirt, the breeze across my belly was pretty damn uncomfortable and my hands insisted on trying to pull down the fabric for a while. But then I adjusted. And then I strutted. And now there is no going back.

To acknowledge that our bodies are in some way inferior is culturally applauded, and subsequently we put off wearing what we want (or living life) until we are a better (read: thinner) version of ourselves. Never are we taught to openly embrace and love where we are at the moment, and THAT is why crop tops are the best thing to happen to fashion this summer.

When we purposefully and shamelessly highlight the part of our body that is the squishiest we are turning ourselves into a walking message that says "I'm perfect and I'm perfect NOW." So I'm rocking them in the name of self love (also because they're rad, so suck it Muther) and because I'm a nice guy, I chose my 13 online favorites so you can rock one too.

The "Thick Chick" crop I'm wearing above can be purchased here, though I hear it's a derogatory term "Down Under." Makes you sound like a few sandwiches short of a picnic, or a few kangaroos loose in the top paddoc. For me, it just means if we arm wrestle, I'll win. Because I'm a big ol' babely bad ass and damn proud of that y'hear?

Also: buy this and make it into this. Do it now, ask questions later. Need instructions? Here ya go.

Oh, and I saved the best for last. We can ask ourselves all day long if this is worth spending $32 dollars on (no), but the real question is are you fucking unicorn enough to wear it?